


a (k)night like any other

by Truetomorrow



Series: Sold My Soul to a Three-Piece [4]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Cheeky Credence, Fluff, Idiots in Love, King Percival Graves, Knight Credence Barebone, M/M, Mentions of Tina and Queenie but not enough to make them characters s o r r y, Pining, Self-Indulgent, Smitten Credence Barebone, Smitten Original Percival Graves, The most shameless self-indulgent fic, UST that gets resolved, death of a (bad) dragon, not historically accurate in the Slightest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 07:36:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12164403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Truetomorrow/pseuds/Truetomorrow
Summary: Percival is a king with a dragon problem, and two eligible daughters; Credence is an unattached knight with mad dragon-slaying skills and a mysterious past. Things don't work outentirelyas planned.(Although maybe they work out better than either could have hoped.)





	a (k)night like any other

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't actually written more than a sentence in over a month, and since I had a good, productive day today, finally sat down and made myself write. This was written in a few hours, but it's been bouncing around in my head for a while. It's based on a version of this song ([A Fairy Story](http://thebards.net/music/lyrics/A_Fairy_Story.shtml)) that I heard growing up going to the Ren Faire [thanks, parents, once again, for enabling me to become the trash I am now :P] 
> 
> Anyway, It did get slightly more angsty than expected but, since it was supposed to be 100% crack, it's still a reasonable amount. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Any and all mistakes are my own, and my bad

Percival heaves out a sigh that borders on despair before raising his arm to signal the guards to open the great doors of the hall. In that moment, he would have traded everything he owns to be anything but the King. If not for his subjects and daughters depending on him, he might very well have been the one to attempt to seek out and defeat the beast on his own. His eyes slip closed as he rubs the bridge of his nose.

Too many brave men have been lost to the task, and from what he understands, he is about to send yet another on to his death.

At the gentle clearing of a throat, Percival gathers himself and opens his eyes. But he can only blink, then blink again, as if trying to clear his vision.

A young man—hardly more than a boy, really—stands erect in full armor in front of the throne before lowering to bended knee. His skin is unmarked and pale, though covered lightly in dust from his ride; the flash of dark eyes and plush of his lips give the King pause.

He is beautiful.

He is doomed.

No. Whoever this young man is, Percival will _not_ allow him to go on the fool’s errand of— Percival suddenly realizes the armor the young knight wears is scratched and… but those can’t be burns?

Yet now that he is looking, Percival realizes that what he had assumed to be a bag of supplies is actually the head of the dragon that had been terrorizing his countryside for months.

Percival’s eyes fly up to the knight’s face, which is now split by a proud grin, his eyes sparking with charm and satisfaction. The King’s breath catches.

“It is done, Sire. The dragon has been defeated, and your kingdom’s safety restored.”

The knight’s eyes never waver as he locks eyes with the King, and Percival nearly smiles at the audacity, but reminds himself he is the _ruler_. And yet. “Please, stand. You have done the kingdom a great service. I wish to know your name, so tell me: by what name goes our savior?” At the surprise on the knight’s face, Percival does smile finally, and watches a slow flush spread over the knight’s face, before it is hidden by a quick bow that rearranges his hair to cover the majority of his face.

“Sire, it does not matter—I am but a knight like any other.” But he does not meet Percival’s eyes again, seeming to focus on the floor in embarrassment. Percival frowns softly as he considers the younger man, wondering at the change. Perhaps he is unsure how to broach the topic of reward.

“As you wish. And yet, you _have_ served this kingdom well, and I mean to repay you for your efforts as well as your success.” Immediately, though, the knight shakes his head.

“Please, your Highness, I seek only to serve—I desire no rewards, whether gold or jewels.”

Percival studies the figure before him, brushing his fingers lightly over his lips in thought. “Even so, this good deed shall not go unrecognized. You will not leave before a feast may be organized in your honor, surely?”

The young knight’s eyes flick up to meet Percival’s again—for no more than a heartbeat before flitting away again—and he nods in acquiescence. “Sire, I would never leave ‘til you asked it.”

Again, Percival’s breath catches in his throat, but he smiles in pleasure and gestures to one of the guards. “Watch out, you may never leave. Please, show our young knight to a fitting room. The family’s wing should have any number of such rooms.” Percival can sense the knight about to protest, so he stands and makes to leave the room. “Have the dragon’s head displayed atop the gate as a sign of safety and success, and prepare for a feast tonight.”

After tonight, Percival will find some way to keep the younger man from leaving. If he had meant what he said about waiting for Percival to ask him to leave, he _will_ never leave. But, Percival reminds himself, what else would a young knight say to a King? Better to fabricate even the most tenuous of reasons to keep him nearby than to force the knight to ask to be released out of boredom if he is required simply to _stay_.

Drawing a deep breath as he reaches an empty corridor, he makes up his mind, slowing to a halt. He will talk to his daughters. Anything to keep the knight here. Even if that means he can never touch him.

Percival can admit to himself now that that is what he longs for. The moment he had set eyes on the young knight, he had been struck by the man’s beauty, had been desperate to keep him safe from harm, even if that had meant the continued attacks of the dragon. But in the end, the knight had disarmed him with a smile and the head of their enemy. He had indeed saved the kingdom, and if it doomed the King’s heart in the process, it was nothing for the boy to worry over. Even if the knowledge that they both fought for the same goal—protection, service to the people of the land—made Percival’s heart shiver with a hope he had not felt in nearly a decade…

Not that Percival would have a chance, regardless. He would never put the boy in the position of having to say no to the King, or saying yes under coercion. And yet he is selfish enough to want to keep the knight near to him for as long as he is able.

Shaking off the thoughts, Percival strides down the hall to find his daughters.

\------

The banquet was a joyous affair, and the revelry that followed now verges on rambunctious. The alcohol flows freely, and spirits everywhere are high; the young knight had finally provided his name when Percival had asked him again, and Percival repeats it in his head now, as he watches the young man smile and come alive with the celebration surrounding them. _Credence._ It echoes in his head like a heartbeat, and he feels his heart ache slightly in desire. A desire for this brave, fae creature dancing with anyone who asks and pretending to fall dead in battles with the children who have remained awake. A desire to be loved as he is; as a man rather than as the King. A desire to be _whole_.

Percival forces the thoughts away. He is maudlin and sentimental when he should be glad, his burden eased by the death of the dragon. Taking a swig of his drink, he turns his attention back to Credence— _Credence_ who lifts his eyes again to look around him in wonder. By the time their eyes meet, Percival has himself composed enough to raise his glass towards the knight with a curve of his lips. The answering grin lightens his heart further.

Percival has tonight, at least. One night to pretend Credence could be his.

Queenie waves at him cheerfully from across the room, and Percival feels his face relax fully. He inclines his head with a wry smile and moves to mingle with the guests, always sure to keep Credence in view.

When he feels it has gotten late enough, he manages to corner the younger man so they may speak privately.

Credence smiles up at him, completely at ease after a night of good food, company, and wine. It takes Percival a moment too long to realize he’s been staring at the knight’s lips yet again—they have been bitten red, and shine slightly where he had just run his tongue over them—and he straightens as the lips part as if on a question.

“Credence.” The red lips instantly press shut, and a pink flush steals up his neck, flooding over his cheeks.

“Yes, M’Lord?”

Cheeky thing. Percival meets his eyes yet again, marveling at the shades he couldn’t put name to, even if given a lifetime to try, and reminds himself to keep his voice light.

“You asked for no gold or jewels—demanded, rather. And yet you have done this kingdom, and my people, a great service.” Percival finds himself standing far too close to the younger man, but that could be explained away as the volume around them—were anyone foolish enough to question the King, that is.

“You have shown yourself to be brave, and noble; and yet you are young and from humble beginnings.” This last is a guess, but Credence’s eyes flicker in surprise, so Percival knows he has gotten that correct. “I would like, if you will allow, to fix that. I have… I have two daughters.” He gestures towards Tina, who had been sitting with a small group of his knights for most of the night—likely going over plans for an upcoming hunt—and Percival feels his voice soften in fondness. “Tina is a maiden young and chaste, she would be your supporter and your partner; and you could grow to love her.” Credence studies Tina curiously, before turning the same look at Percival.

Cursing himself, Percival swiftly finds his other daughter in the crowd—not that it is difficult, the shining beacon of her hair is obvious in the center of her crowd of admirers—in an effort to distract himself, he avoids looking at Credence again.

“Queenie is the fairest in the town, loyal and kind, protective of her own. You couldn’t _help_ but fall in love with her.” The last added somewhat rhetorically, and Credence shoots him a quick, sardonic smile. It would never have passed his notice that she was never without a crowd of ladies, lords, knights; no one is below her notice, and everyone desires her attention.

When Credence makes no movement, save to study Percival’s face again, Percival smiles blandly, shrugging. “You may, of course, have time to decide. But this night you may choose where to take your leisure. Tina’s door is the last on the left, Queenie’s is right across from hers. I… It is late, and time for me to leave… I will– I look forward to seeing you in the morning—seeing your decision, that is. Either would please me.”

Credence finally speaks at that, head tilted gently, “are you sure about that, _M’Lord_?”

Percival shivers at the emphasis he hears on the last word, and curses himself again. He is not a King, he is nothing but an old fool. “Of course. It is as I have said. Now, I bid you a good night. Sleep well.”

Credence quirks his lips, “I intend to. Sleep well, M’Lord.”

Percival flees.

\---

He had just gotten comfortable under his blankets when the knock comes.

Percival drags himself out of his bed, trudging over to open the door. The knock had been so quiet he is sure it must be whichever daughter Credence had not chosen… He will have to figure out how to comfort her while his own heart lies cracked and out of place.

When he opens the door, however, it is Credence himself on the other side. Percival starts in shock.

“Credence? Did… Did you get lost?” His heart gives a jolt that again feels suspiciously like hope, and Percival attempts to tamp it back into submission.

Credence stares at Percival—his eyes are violently alive, barely tempered by the small smile on his face. He takes a breath, steeling himself. “M’Lord. I believe I was to have my choice of royal bedfellow for the night?”

Mind whirling, heart shivering out of the grasping hold he had held it in, Percival steps back to let Credence into his chamber before he shuts the door and pulls the younger man into his arms. “For as long as you choose.”

Credence’s face blazes in delight. “Watch out, I may never leave.” Percival chuckles and tilts his face up, eyes distracted for a moment by those soft lips so near his own, content in the moment to hold the younger man safe and warm against his chest.

Their lips meet as Percival feels the last piece of his heart click into place.

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU FOR READING DID I MENTION THIS WAS SELF-INDULGENT? I just read through it after a quick edit and sighed bc It Is So Cute, soooo xD 
> 
> Please _please_ comment if you liked? It means The World to me  <3
> 
> Sprinkled with references... heh, basically, if it's a good line, I'm probably paraphrasing the song or just quoting something. Two I did on purpose, though:  
> -"As you wish" from _The Princess Bride_  
>  -"eyes violently alive" from _My Brother Michael_ one of my _favorite_ Mary Stewart books. (I cannot recommend her books highly enough)
> 
> I do have a [tumblr](http://chryselephantinechaos.tumblr.com), and though I am on soft hiatus I always see and respond to messages.


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